


Precipice

by bob_eclipsa_smith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Gradual Healing, Some Humor, Some angst, allura is awesome, also a sucker for plance, general balance, it's lame but just read it, keith is so emo, lotor is the love of my life, therapy baking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-01-30 01:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12643377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bob_eclipsa_smith/pseuds/bob_eclipsa_smith
Summary: Their relationship was built on unstable ground, on an impulse, proving to Keith that something good truly could come out of something devastating. All he had to do now, is choose whether or not to pursue it.(Formerly called Grief Once More)





	1. Keith and Not-Shiro

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a Voltron kick right now. I won't stop. Ever. I've employed the theory that S4 Shiro is not actually Shiro for this fic and daaaaamn it makes for an interesting fic. And I'm super proud of this one for some reason so I hope you like!
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy the angst!!!
> 
> Also I'm turning this into a small multi-chap. There's too many ideas swirling about in my head to not do something else with it.

Shiro is dead.

Of that Keith is certain.

He knows it when he sees the man for the first time. This man isn't Shiro. Keith _knows_. He _knows_ Shiro.

Or at least he _knew_ Shiro.

The man posing to be Shiro is virtually nothing like the Shiro Keith remembers. He looks the very same but that's about all that is familiar about the faux black paladin. Same chiseled jawline, same scar running along his nose, same floof of snow-white hair a stark contrast against otherwise raven black.

The only physical attribute that is noticeably different is his eyes. They are the same shade of obsidian black, but they are under no circumstances the same.

No.

Where Shiro’s held compassion, determination and an uncannily moral light that made Keith want to punch him and glorify him at the same time, this Shiro’s eyes were blank. This Shiro’s eyes were an opaque glass wall, no vulnerability present, holding absolutely nothing even resembling a trace of humanity.

Shiro is dead.

Of this Keith is certain.

This Shiro isn't him.

And so with intractable mindset, Not-Shiro descends upon the quaint hubble that is the castle of lions, infiltrating the space base like Lucifer in the garden of Eden. Slowly, slowly gaining the trust of the paladins of Voltron. Keith was not allowed in anymore because for some unknown reason, Not-Shiro has always understood with clarity that the former red paladin was onto him.

And so, Not-Shiro won the trust of the black lion, ultimately stealing Keith away from his home, pushing him from his friends and family.

So when Keith gets a distress call from an uncharacteristically frightened Allura, he doesn't waste a single second. He promptly ignores the outraged shouts from Kolivan, and the stern looks of barely masked surprise from the other Galra, leaps into the fastest pod, and is headed for his old home within an hour.

Because he _knew_. And it was only a matter of time before the only family he had ever known was ultimately destroyed. Because he _knew_ , if he allowed them to perish, he would be alone in this universe once more.

***

It’s quiet at first.

But Keith quickly revises that first notion when the man with the scar upon his nose leaps out of nowhere, glowing yellow eyes filled with malice. He doesn't have time to grieve Shiro’s death a second time, for the clone is fast, inhumanly fast.

Well, good thing Keith isn't human.

In a half-tick, the blade he always carries is in his familiar grip, and Keith is doing battle with Not-Shiro. It's unsurprisingly difficult; Shiro’s clone is deft, fast, cunning, and quite nearly psychic in predicting whatever move Keith makes.

The clone’s lips ( _Shiro’s lips_ ) curve into a smirk that twists his features unpleasantly. “I thought I taught you better, Keith,” Not-Shiro drawls in his voice. “You've gotten sloppy.”

Keith grunts in response, ignoring the sharp stab of pain that comes with hearing this monstrosity speak like Shiro would have. Judging by the quick flash of triumph that surfaces in the clone’s glowing yellow eyes, Keith knows his emotional mask he put up is fruitless.

The clone smirks lowly, and his foot swings in a blur to land a painful kick into Keith’s side. Keith feels the brunt force of the mechanical being throw him away, leaving him breathlessly tumbling on the metallic floor. The blade falls from Keith’s open hand, skidding to rest by his head. His trembling hand reaches for it...almost there, almost there…

In two quick strides, the clone has reached Keith, kicking the blade just out of Keith’s grasp and sending a subsequent kick to his abdomen. Keith cries out in pain; Not-Shiro laughs. Utters a pitiful chuckle followed by a _tsk-tsk._

“The Blades have made you soft, my friend.” He says with a deranged grin that looks horribly out of place on Shiro’s lips. “Odd. I would have thought they'd make you strong. Turns out I was wrong.”

Keith’s lips turn into a bearing scowl and with the breath he has left, he suggests Not-Shiro do something that would be rather impossible.

Even for a clone.

The clone laughs. “It was an admirable attempt, Keith.” He says before twirling Keith’s blade expertly between his fingers. “But I'm afraid it's over.”

Keith shuts his eyes, a sudden self-hatred burning through his very being at the thought that he could not save his friends. The images of his family rise to the forefront of his tired mind, turning the anger he feels right now to grief once more. Lance, with his trademark grin and ridiculous antics. Coran’s flamboyance and his moustache too large for his face. Hunk’s soft smile and his affinity for liking food more than trouble. Pidge’s sharp mind and large honey colored eyes. Allura—

The weight is suddenly pushed off of him, and his wish for retribution is answered not seconds later. It comes in the form of a silver-haired spitfire, body agile and quick as the clone himself, nails digging crescents into Not-Shiro and wrenching him away from Keith with a strength and a feminine fury he only associated with one single being.

“Allura!”

The clone reacts instinctively, easily reaching back and throwing the princess off his personage as if she was nothing but a mere hindrance. Surprise dons his face for a mere second before amusement takes hold. “Allura, Allura,” he chides mockingly, a spindly finger gently tracing her delicate jawbone. “You never learn, do you?” Allura’s crystal blue eyes flash with hatred and pain, and she turns her head away in revulsion.

Anger, red hot and blinding, surges through the former red paladin.

“Get away from her!” Keith snarls, snatching his blade and nicking Not-Shiro’s cheek with the sharp edge of the knife. The clone’s face flickers in surprise before he snickers lightly, backhanding a shocked Allura into the wall with little effort.

“Allura!” Keith cries.

Lance, Pidge and Hunk enter the fray not a moment later, beyards upraised and expressions fierce. Keith spares them a glance and a genuine smile before whirling yet again to face this seemingly unbearable foe. He's joined subsequently by the paladins of new, and the dysfunctional family is whole once more.

***

It could have been seconds, hours, days or weeks. Keith lost track of time. All he felt was the heat of this never ending battle and all there was was this unconquerable foe before them. A blank-faced Lotor enters the heat of battle soon thereafter, lithe figure holding as much strength as Allura had. The former Galran prince swings his blade experimentally before leaping to the team’s side, striking the clone down, all the while sporting his trademark smirk.

Hunk throws himself at the clone of Shiro, time and time again, and each time he was thrown down, in the pile of rubble created from countless impacts. The paladins and Lotor launch strike after strike at Not-Shiro, and slowly but steadily, the seemingly endless strength wanes.

Until finally, Keith stands before him, Lance and Hunk holding him down with grim eyes and pursed lips. Over this thing that bears so much resemblance to his long time mentor and hero. For a split second, Keith falters, and the hand holding the blade trembles. The clone’s yellow eyes flash once, before transitioning back to almost human obsidian black. Shiro looks up at Keith, silent and motionless. Keith heaves a startled gasp...

This looks so much like Shiro.

This looks so much like the man who had practically raised him.

...who had given him a family when he had none.

...who had never once given up on him, even when he had lashed out.

...who had been the very first person outside his family that Keith had trusted.

But no longer.

Shiro was dead.

Of this, Keith was certain.

This wasn't Shiro.

“Finish him, Keith,” Lotor says with set lips and grave eyes. “This is not Shiro.”

In the end, it's not Lotor that pulls Keith to place the killing blow, but Allura. He casts a cursory glance to the Altean princess, watching her crystal blue eyes as they flash in empathetic pain. It feels like an eternity that he meets her gaze, but eventually, she gives a barely imperceptible nod, eyes hardening like glass.

He sets his jaw and meets Shiro’s eyes again.

He’s impassive, devoid of any sort of compassion, any sort of determination, any type of humanity. Shiro is gone. And this is what toughens Keith’s tenacious resolve.

With a face like stone and eyes like opaque glass, he takes a deep breath, feeling the familiar solidarity of his friends surrounding him, in a collective semblance of grief, mourning the loss of Shiro once more…

...and lowers the blade, wincing when the squelching of human skin meets his ears. It's over in a split second. The light in the clone’s eyes dies and his face droops before subsequently stiffening.

Keith Kogane drops the body where it lands against the ground with a sickening thud, and pulls the blade out of Not-Shiro, meeting each solemn gaze of his family.

And then he drops to his knees besides the sentient corpse, the grief he felt bubbling inside at Shiro’s disappearance coming to the surface. He remains that way for an untold amount of time, blade gleaming sadly at his side. He feels the air of the others around him as they grieve their fallen leader for the second time.

One by one they come.

First it is Hunk, who after placing a brotherly hand upon Keith’s shoulder and giving it a solemn squeeze, withdraws it, face ashen. Then it is Pidge, whose eyes are bloodshot and glassy, shoulders heaving in an uncommon display of raw emotion. An uncharacteristically grim Lance, eyes devoid of boyish laughter and mischievous light, clutches Pidge's hand like a clamp. Last is Lotor, who, even though he never had a chance to know Shiro personally, still lacked his cocky aura and confident poise, knew well enough not to disrupt this moment of grief, instead joining in on the wordless vigilance.

One by one they disappear.

Hunk leaves first, a solemn Shay appearing in the doorway to take the man in her arms. He runs into them without hesitation, weeping and sniveling in her unyielding grip like a lost little boy.

Next is Lance, a pallid, numb Pidge tucked carefully under his protective arm. He pulls her slowly from the body, and after casting an understanding glance to Keith, they disappear behind the sliding mechanical door together.

Lotor, ever the lone wolf, needs no motivation to depart, but perhaps he needs the slim hand extended to him by a lithe red figure who appears suddenly in the doorway, her sparkling ocean blue eyes and genuine smile unwavering as he accepts her offer with a tired but grateful grin.

Soon, all but two remain.

Keith, retaining his steady vigilance over the fallen body, and the princess behind him.

He is made immediately aware of her presence as she drops besides him, wrapping arms that carry so much strength comfortingly around his waist.

He is immediately engulfed in her sweet scent, slightly marred by sweat and dust; tokens of her bravery. He feels her breath warm on his neck, hears her sniffles as she tucks her head into the crook of his neck, wetness from her tears staining his hair with crystalline liquid.

He fights the uncanny urge to push her off of him, and force himself into that hole of self-loathing yet again. He fights the urge to yell and scream at her until she leaves him alone. He fights the urge to storm away, lashing out at the princess until she finally realizes that he really is the monster she had always known him to be. He wants her gone, he wants her to understand that he doesn't need comfort, that he abhors any sort of comforting contact.

But he doesn't do anything of the sort.

He merely stays where he is, relaxing into another’s touch for the first time since he can remember since Shiro. He simply allows her to comfort him, lets her tears fall unbidden and lets them kneel together in that silent vigil. Allura is sobbing slightly, fingers tracing idle patterns upon his back. He simply allows himself to let his walls down, for Allura is kind, and she is compassionate and she is here with him.

In one smooth movement, he pulls the Altean princess against his chest, allowing his own tears to trail down his face and into her hair. He allows her to comfort him, settling for her oddly comforting presence and slight trembling fingers on his chest. Lightly, he hears Allura whispering words of sweet nothings against him, feels the warmth of her breath on his chest. He presses a tremulous kiss against her silken hair, surprisingly thankful for her presence.

Together, Altean and Galran mourn the loss of someone dear to them, and in a rare moment of respite, Keith lets the second person after Shiro into the walls he built around his heart.


	2. Keith and Allura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still angsty but a little more hope. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

The days pass by with agonizing slowness in The Castle of Lions. Passage of time was slowed to a crawl from the lingering amounts of sadness and the crushing air of despair.

The paladins of new mourn not only the loss of their leader, but also the absence of a friend, of a kindhearted soul that always put the needs of Voltron over his own. They mourn the loss of a beloved brother, mentor, second father, and the widening of a hollow chasm in the hearts of many. It is devoid of laughter, boyish grins and foolish pranks. It is without light-heartedness, and a heavy sort of fog settles upon the solemn atmosphere.

The sight of Pidge curled up against an unusually quiet Lance, his arm resting protectively around the slight girl; the silhouette of Hunk meddling in the kitchen, burying himself in something to help dull his own grief, or perhaps to shield him from the grief of others—both have become commonplace amidst the depressing air of mourning. The grief has become such a usual occurrence, that the paladins find themselves bonding further through it.

All paladins...save one.

Keith rarely stuck around. So often was he out on Marmora missions, that the team barely offered a greeting to the elusive paladin. Even when he was present in the castle, he never spoke, and he spent the vast majority of his time in the training room taking his frustrations out on brunt force and crushing exertion. He locked himself in there for hours at a time, only leaving for the bare necessities before returning yet again.

Hunk watches him pass warily, the red paladin, perhaps acknowledging the yellow paladin’s attention, perhaps not, storming out of the training room in full Blade of Marmora armor, face set. Keith pushes the hood above his head in one fluid movement before exiting the castle in another. The gentle Hunk turns to face the others in characteristic disquiet. _Is he okay? Is he going to be okay?_

Pidge sits by the door, waiting for Keith’s predicted arrival, occasionally glancing at the empty door but unwilling to follow him.

Lance crosses his arms, lips usually turned into a boyish smirk twisted in an angry glower. _We all miss Shiro. Keith needs to face his problems instead of leaving us to worry about him._

Allura sits in wait with Pidge, clasping the other girl’s hand with a familial one of her own before sending a death glare to Lance. _Leave him alone. He was closer with Shiro than any of us. He’ll come around._

He comes back in a fury, running an exasperated hand through his hair before disappearing down the hallway, audible booming footsteps sound his departure.

Allura and Hunk exchange wide-eyed, nervous glances, staring at the door that Keith had just bodily slammed shut.

Lance scoffed, rolling his eyes, making some comment about how Keith needs to grow up before walking out of the room himself, the door slam startling an already abashed Pidge.

The room is silent, save for the ticking of the Altean clock and the soft breaths of a half-asleep Pidge, currently resting her head upon Allura’s shoulder.

“Lance is somewhat right, you know.” Hunk says uncertainly. “It's been almost _two weeks_ , Allura. He should be okay by now.”

Allura hums lightly in agreement. “Yes it has,” she says. “But that doesn't mean that Lance is wholly right. Keith deserves time to grieve in his own way.” She had, after all, been ripped from her family, and unceremoniously thrown into a war that she originally had little to do with, given absolutely no time to grieve her father, her mother, anyone that was now dead. Allura shudders. “Yes,” she mutters. “He should be given time to grieve.”

_(They had, after all, never before been gifted with a beautiful life, only to have it, and everyone they had ever loved dissipate into mere ashes. They had, after all, never been robbed of ten-thousand years, only to wake up in a stranger’s arms, with unfamiliar technology and equally unfamiliar people in her castle. They had, after all, never completely understood Allura’s past life.)_

“Uh...Allura?”

Allura blinks. Her gaze lands on Hunk who is currently staring at her like she was a glass vase capable of shattering at the slightest bit of pressure. “Yes, Hunk?”

“You okay? You kinda spaced out there for a second.”

She turns away from his compassionate gaze. “I'm fine,” She says curtly. “Thank you for the concern.”

With a slight nudge to jolt the sleepy Pidge awake, and a polite nod to Hunk, Allura stands in one fluid motion, heading for the door that Lance and Keith exited not a moment prior.

***

After an unusually unanimous vote by the paladins and Coran, Allura was the designated one to speak to Keith. The Altean Princess spent nearly three hours of crying and shouting until her voice was hoarse looking for the elusive red paladin.

Lance pointed out that she would be the one most likely to console Keith, because she was the one most likely to understand his situation, according to obvious _logic_. He promptly ignored the eye roll from Pidge at that _logical_ line.

And so, this is how Allura finds herself, late in her schedule, uneasily staring down a door with the engraved name of the dearly departed.

She takes a deep breath and then opens the door.

Allura finds him there, a dark huddled shape in the corner, arms pulled protectively around himself. The light from the hallway sets his face alight, showcasing the sharp cheekbones and the deep violet glints in his eyes. If he notices her arrival, he gives no acknowledgement of it, merely keeping his gaze solemnly on his knees as she takes a seat besides him on Shiro’s floor.

They sit in comfortable silence for a long while, Allura giving the paladin time to rest and grieve in his own way before unceremoniously disrupting the fragile peace with her usually authoritative manner. His lips curl into a small scowl when he realizes that Allura has no intentions of leaving, and she can easily tell that he's just barely holding that unconcealable anger inside of him.

Allura heaves a sigh, and the fragile tension is broken. Keith looks up at her from underneath dark lashes, his gaze uncertain and inquisitive. A small confused frown works its way across his face, replacing the scowl.

“Allura.”

Crystal blue meets opaque obsidian. She can easily see the multiple violet specks decorating his irises.

“Yes?” She asks gently.

“Uh...what are you doing here?”

She heaves another sigh. Drums nervous fingers on her leg. Allura promptly evades his curious gaze by looking towards the hallway. “They thought I would be the best person to try to talk to you,” she tells him quietly. “Lance is...angry…”

Keith scoffs, his mouth twisting in a furious scowl. “Of course he is,” Keith growls. “He doesn't understand.”

Allura hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing to refute or prove the claim.

He's still looking at her as though she's some type of unsolvable enigma. “Is that really why you're here, Princess? You don't just feel sorry for me?” The last sentence is touched with bitter sarcasm. Allura has to hold in her sudden frustration with everything she has.

“No.” She manages with surprising calmness.

“‘No’ like that's not why you're really here, or ‘no’ like you don't pity me?”

A sardonic smile touches upon her lips. “I suppose it's a bit of both.”

Keith folds his hands behind his head, exhaling in frustration. “Well then why are you here?”

“I suppose I'm worried about you.”

The snarky response is immediate. “Well stop worrying about me.”

Allura's sardonic smirk deepens. “I wish it were that easy.”

The pair descend into silence once more, but this time, instead of comfortable and soothing, it's tense and infuriating.

Keith’s dark eyes penetrate hers with brutal intensity and unyielding force. “I'm fine, Allura,” he says gruffly. “I don't need anyone to dote on me.”

“I’m not doting, ” She replies with a small scoff. “I'm merely looking after you because I care.”

Keith snorts. “Why do you care?” He asks angrily.

“Because I understand what it feels like to lose someone you love.”

Keith winces, dark eyes flashing. Allura feels her heart throb, for the grief of losing Shiro is suddenly all the more present once more. “Don't mention him.” Keith hisses.

Allura stares at him incredulously. “I'm sorry?”

His mouth pulls into a scowl, and his eyes are laced with broken grief and unimaginable pain. “I said don't talk about Shiro like you knew him. You didn't know him at all. Not like I did.”

With that, he's up and out of the room before Allura has a chance to comprehend Keith’s sudden tantrum.

She's left staring at his back as he storms away, presumably to exert himself to the point of near death in the training room. Allura ignores the throb of hurt that courses through her at his blunt words and rises to follow him.

***

She catches him just as he's about to enter the training facility, grasping his wrist in one fluid movement. With a grunt, he fights her unyielding grip to no avail, and upon seeing that he has absolutely no chance at winning stubbornness and strength with Princess Allura, he turns his frustrated glare to meet her own. 

“Allura—"

“I just wanted to say something.” She tells him brusquely, eyeing the hand around his wrist before meeting his gaze once more, in an unspoken question.

His eyes harden in understanding, and he dips his head in a small nod before she removes her hand from his wrist. Keith crosses his arms across his chest protectively, regarding her with wariness.

“Okay,” he says. “Then talk.”

She frowns, folding her own arms across her chest in a mirror image of his. “I just wanted to say that you're not the only one who cared about Shiro. We all knew him, trusted him, liked him, admired him for the person he was.”

Keith opens his mouth to speak. Allura silences him with a quick hand.

“I'm not saying that we didn't know him as well as you did, because I'm certain I didn't, but all I'm saying is that you aren't the only one who's going through a hard time right now.”

Keith’s eyes soften in understanding, he remains silent, and he averts her resolute crystal blue gaze. “Allura...I didn't mean—”

“And don't forget,” she says, stabbing his chest with one slender finger. “You think I don't understand what you're going through? Well remember that _I_ was the one who spent ten-thousand years in that cryopod with nothing but my own thoughts. Remember that _I_ was the one who was sleeping, _helpless_ as my people and my planet were destroyed. Remember that _I_ woke up to unfamiliar surroundings. Remember that my whole race is _gone_ , Keith. _Gone_. Coran and I are the only ones left—”

“Allura—” he whispers.

“I am the only one left, Keith.” She sobs. “I am the only one. And everyone expects me to lead. I had no time to mourn them, no time to heal. I had a duty to my people and to you all. I had to become a leader.”

“I'm so sorry—”

“The only things that I had left were my paladins and I've already lost one… what kind of leader does that make me?”

He's silent, eyes soft and hands warm. Somehow, during the rant, Keith's fingers intertwined with her own, attempting fruitlessly to offer her some kind of comfort.

“So, no, Keith. I may not have known Shiro as well as you did, but that doesn't mean I don't know what loss feels like. I hope you enjoy your training session, Keith. Please don't overexert yourself.”

She spins elegantly on her heel then, ignoring his calls after her as she heads to her room, thoughts of grief and despair swirling through her head, and memories of Shiro and Alfor coming to the forefront of her mind.

***

A soft knock at her door stirs her from her light slumber, and a tired princess opens the door to stare directly into the grief-stricken eyes of her new black paladin. They widen when she answers, and her own eyes soften.

“Keith,” she breathes, noticing a substantial change in his personage than before. Here is a vulnerability that she rarely sees in him. Here is a tension breakable as glass. “Are you alright?”

He looks at her from underneath fluttering lashes. “Are _you_ alright?” He asks in return.

She nods. “Fine. I never should have told you all that.” Allura admits. “It was petty and stupid and—”

He silences her with a hand on hers.

“Hey,” he's suddenly very close. “It's okay. I needed to hear it. I was being an asshole.”

She crosses her arms. “Yes. Yes you were.”

A barely perceptible smile touches upon his lips, and Allura’s heart flutters with both relief and something akin to affection.

“I guess I'm a little damaged.” He says with a lopsided smile and a sheepish rubbing behind his head. “I mean, I never really had a family before. Shiro was the father I never had. And now…”

Allura offers him a small smile. “You still do have a family,” she tells him. “You're always welcome here, Keith. Always. We love you and we will always welcome you. And if no one else does, I will.”

“Thanks, Allura.” He says in a breathy whisper.

“No problem.” She replies with a smile. One that remarkably, he returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts! Should I continue?


	3. Allura and Hunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this idea from the internet cause I lack creativity. Hopefully this one is less angsty. Enjoy!

"Sooooo...who’s gonna tell him?” Lance asks uneasily, gaze sweeping across the room to land on each individual face. “Cause I call ‘not it’.”

“Not it.”

“Nope.”

“I’d rather not.”

They all turn to face the one who had remained silent throughout all this chatter, and the aforementioned folds her arms together, sending Lance a death glare. “You want me to tell Keith that he needs to separate himself from The Blades so that he can once again pilot the black lion?”

“Yep.” Lance chirps with an innocent grin.

“Pretty much.” Pidge chimes in.

“I'm sorry, Allura. I just...Keith...you're the best at talking to him. He listens to you.” Hunk, sweet Hunk who twiddles his thumbs when nervous, or bites his lip when anxious. Both of which he’s doing now.

Allura narrows her eyes at the paladins of new, all beaming with deceptively innocuous grins, Hunk's innocuous grin being slightly uneasier than the others. However, she can do little more than silently complain with a solemn sigh.

After all, the second generation paladins were quite stubborn, and it would probably be best if she were the one to speak with Keith ( _She tries not to think of another, one whose absence caused all this misdirection and chaos. One who Allura was sure, would be much, much better suited to speak to him._ ).

She sighs. If only Shiro were here.

***

Allura's walking casually through the hallways amidst a sleepless night, traversing the familiar pathways that she had when she was a small girl. She smiles slightly when resounding sounds of girlish giggles and responding baritone laughs bounce off the walls of her subconscious, the image of a slight smiling girl racing through the various twists and turns, her loving father running behind her, allowing her to skirt just ahead of him in chase.

And so this is how she finds herself ensconced in an iron grip, and pressed against a rock hard chest. His strong hands around her arms hold her like steel bands, pushing her a professional distance away from him after the fumbling impact. He greets her with a small smile and an uncharacteristically embarrassed chuckle before releasing her in one smooth movement. She stares at him inquisitively, subconsciously rubbing her arms where his hands had previously been.

“Keith,” she gasps lightly, regarding him fondly. “You startled me.”

He smiles at her, a soft, sweet smile that makes her heart flutter inside its chest cavity. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he says lowly. “You looked kinda out of it. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m quite alright,” she replies, the image of her father, an image that hadn't strayed far these past few months, returning without meaning to. “I'm...fine.”

He frowns slightly, not looking convinced. “Okay, well… what are you doing out here? It's late, Allura.”

She becomes suddenly aware of how she's in nothing but a thin nightgown, and he's somehow managed to pull off a small black t-shirt that clung to his toned chest and biceps, his sleep muddied hair somehow making him look more endearing. Allura suddenly remembers the way that hair curled naturally around her fingers when she comforted him in time of loss. She shudders, pulling her arms protectively around herself.

His eyes take on a worried light. “Allura? You sure you're okay?”

She averts her gaze, looking down at her feet. “Fine.” Allura mutters. “Besides, I'm not the only one down here in the middle of the night. What's wrong, Keith? Bad dream?”

She's immediately sorry she asked, for the teasing air diffuses quickly, leaving behind a tense atmosphere and an equally tense Keith. He takes a sudden interest in the floor and his shuffling feet. Obsidian eyes tinted with slight bit of violet flick up suddenly to sink into crystal blue, looking as though a million infantile shards of glass were embedded within. Keith was displaying an uncanny vulnerability that Allura had never before seen. His armor that he always carried with him for a sudden instance was stripped away, leaving behind someone entirely new. Someone _human_.

“I...couldn’t sleep either,” he says softly, meeting her gaze uneasily. “I guess I miss him.”

“Of course you do,” she breathes in gentle understanding. “He was like your brother.” Allura pauses for a brief instance before employing that slight bit of hope to the otherwise grief-stricken Keith. “He might still be—”

“No,” he cuts in sharply, all prior traces of gentleness gone. “I would know if he were, Allura. Don't give me false hope. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime.”

“Sorry,” she mutters, becoming suddenly uncomfortable with the odd stare he was giving her, as if she were something he had never seen before.

“It's okay,” he sighs, lips pursing into a solid line. He regards her uneasily, as though he knew his anger has gotten the best of him for the briefest of instances. “You should probably go to bed, Princess. You should be refreshed for whatever happens tomorrow. Trust me,” he gives her a crooked grin that sets her heart into unintentional and uncontrollable flames. “I've been there. Night, Princess.”

She stops him with an inhibiting hand wrapped around his wrist. He looks back at her, eyes questioning. “Wait.”

He stops and he waits.

“I just...wanted to say that I appreciate you staying here, and I want you to talk to me. You don't have to close yourself up again.”

“Princess—”

“ _Allura_ ,” she corrects sternly. “We are _friends_.”

He smiles slightly. “Allura,” his voice curls sweetly around her name in slight amusement and even, if Allura is to examine it further, the tiniest bit of relief. “I know what you want me to do, and I appreciate all you and the paladins have done for me. But...I have to go back to The Blades. They need me.”

She's stunned into silence, opening and closing her mouth like an aquatic being Lance sometimes referred to as ‘a fish’. How could he think The Blades needed him more than Voltron did? They were without a black paladin, and though Allura had grown accustomed to leadership, she would not, nor could she, ever take Shiro’s place as the head of Voltron. Like father like daughter, Allura thinks bitterly. She was not the rightful leader of Voltron. The man in front of her, on the other hand, was.

His eyes darken in understanding. Allura is pretty certain that he knows her train of thought, and even more certain that he doesn't agree. Or perhaps, he does, and he's just unwilling or afraid to take Shiro’s place. “Goodnight, Princess.” He says brusquely. Allura doesn't even bother to correct him. “I'll stay for one more night and then I have to go back.”

With that, he's gone, leaving behind a stunned Allura and a silence capable of filling voids. After he's out of sight, disappeared down the dark corridor, Allura heaves a small sigh, and proceeds to head back to her room for the remainder of the sleepless night.

***

“ _What_?! Allura, you have to do better than a weird midnight chat with him! You have to make him stay!” The blue paladin takes a sip of coffee, dunking a teabag in a cup of steaming water. Allura casts a cursory glance to the bag. Peppermint. Interesting.

Allura's eyes flick away from the tea, flash furiously a slender finger points to the irate Lance. “Well, I did better than _you_ did, Lance. You haven't even done _anything_ to try and console him.”

Lance rubs the back of his neck and offers Allura a sheepish grin. “Weeeeeellll...you're better with him.”

Allura doesn't return it. “Not really,” she says plainly. “You're just afraid to face him.”

“I… _what_?! I... _no_.”

Allura rolls her eyes.

“Allura…”

Her foot taps angrily on the floor, waiting impatiently for a coherent reply.

“Ugh, fine!” He throws his hands up in the air. “I can't talk to him without yelling, Allura! We don't get along. Period.” Lance huffs.

Allura smiles bitterly. “Lance—”

“Besides, you can reach him in a way not many can.” He says, arms crossed and gaze conveniently averting hers. “He's...different with you. You can bring him back.” Lance looks at her now. “I know if anyone can reach him, it's you, Princess.”

Allura softens, oddly touched. “Thank you, Lance.” She says with a smile.

He returns it with a sly grin of his own. “No prob,” he shoots her with a finger gun. “I gotta go. Good luck, ‘Lu. You're gonna need it. Wassup, Hunk?” He pats the yellow paladin familiarly on the shoulder before snatching the mysterious tea cup and heading out of the kitchen. Hunk eyes him oddly before smiling fully at Allura.

“What's his deal?” Hunk ask Allura, looking back at the oddly cheerful Lance. “Tea?” He scratches the back of his head curiously. “Does Lance even _like_ tea?”

Allura shakes her head in dismissal. “I haven't the slightest idea of Lance’s tastes.”

Hunk hums thoughtfully before taking a seat at the bench. “So,” he begins casually. “Did you...get anywhere with Keith?”

She narrows her eyes and sighed bodily. “Not really,” Allura breathes a stray piece of silver hair out of her eyes, plopping down besides him. “He's painfully stubborn.”

Hunk chuckles sweetly, bending down and taking out a package of cereal from the metallic cupboard. Hunk had gathered some from a neighboring planet similar to Earth. At least, Allura’s pretty sure that's what he called the odd substance. “Yeah. He's like that.” He pours the cereal into a metallic bowl. “‘Painfully stubborn’ is basically what Keith is. Though Lance calls him a few other things.” He mutters to himself absentmindedly. When Allura clearly doesn't understand, he chuckles sheepishly, as though the sentence popped out randomly.

“Right,” Allura awkwardly changes the subject. “So...do you have any ideas that I can use to possibly...persuade him to stay?”

Hunk smiles. “Oh, yeah there's tons of Earthly things we used to do.” He counts on his large fingers. “There's board games, scavenger hunts, movie marathons. You'd probably like The Princess Diaries,” he adds as a side thought. “Or maybe Star Wars. Or, ooh! You could make friendship bracelets, or card games.”

“Hunk—"

“Or board games. Wait! I said that already...uhhhh.”

“Hunk, these all sound lovely but I'm not sure that—"

“Therapy baking!” He cries exuberantly. “You guys could therapy bake together! Oh, that'd be sooooo cute!”

“Hunk we’re not...together…”

“It's fine,” he dismisses with a single hand. “My grandma used to do that with me when we had a death in the family. Grandma Garrett always said that baking helps get all the sadness out.” He wipes a solitary tear from his eye. “Rest in peace Grandmama. I will always love you.”

Allura opens her mouth only to close it again. “Therapy baking?” She echoes. “Are you certain that's what you and your...grandmama...used to do?”

“Positive,” Hunk says, patting her on the back as he heads to the door. “Have fun!”

“Wait, Hunk! I don't…”

But he's already gone, taking the cereal with him.

“...know how to...bake…”

***

“Okay,” she mutters to the second Allura in the mirror. “Therapy baking.” Crystal blue eyes stare nervously back at her, then close in exasperation. “Ugh!” Allura presses a hand to her forehead. “What is this that you're doing, Allura?! What are you doing to yourself?”

The Altean princess eyes the apron currently draped on the chair that Hunk conveniently left for her. She sends it a death glare, not bothering to mask her abhorrence for the pointless thing. “I hate you.” She says.

The apron, being an inanimate object, says nothing in return.

She scowls at the apron, before snatching it and tying it deftly around her neck. Allura turns her attention yet again to the second Allura in the mirror, her clone looking just as incredulous as she.

What was she doing? She never, _ever_  baked on Altea. _Ever_. She never had to, the servants did it for her. Allura, honestly had never even shown any sort of interest in the culinary activity, though her yellow paladin had a keen love for baking.

Allura, not so much.

A pale face appears in the mirror behind her, and obsidian eyes tinted with violet eye her curiously from over her left shoulder. She jumps with a startled shriek, feeling strong arms catch her instinctively before immediately releasing her.

He's standing behind her, a slight rosy blush dusting his cheeks. She takes immediate notice of his outfit, the Blade of Marmora uniform making him seem like a stranger. Allura gulps uneasily as her sweeping gaze lands on the bags at his feet. Keith smiles sadly, as though empathizing with her pain. That smile soon turns amused as he gets a better glance at her outfit, and Keith, rock hard, seemingly emotionless _Keith_ , belts out a genuine laugh.

“What?! Why are you wearing that?!”

Allura blushes furiously, a scowl twisting her feminine features. The Altean princess punches him on the shoulder before a slender finger jabs him in his rock hard chest. “Hey, listen here mister…”

But he's still laughing, and she can't help laughing alongside him, joining in on the addictive mirth.

“Never took you for a baker, Allura,” he jokes with that breathtaking crooked smile. “So what are you going to make for us? Milkshakes?” He laughs again.

Allura smiles deviously, in saccharine sweetness. Keith stops laughing on the spot, eyes turning suspicious.

“Actually,” she says lightly. “We are going to be therapy baking.”

Keith’s responding jaw drop is hilarious in itself. Allura silently thanks Hunk for this ridiculous notion of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sometimes think Hunk is gay and then I remember he has a giant crush on Shay. Huh. Interesting. Also I love peppermint tea and I had to put that in here. It's a little bit of a reference from my other Kallura fic, Interference.


	4. Keith and Allura Part 2: Baking Edition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I must really not have a life with how fast I've updated this time. Yep. That pretty much sums it up. Aaanyways, I really like this chapter and think it came out pretty well. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!!!

He wasn't quite certain what perils he would have to face upon his sudden departure to The Blade of Marmora, but it certainly wasn't a sheepish, apron-clad Allura with a landfill of baking supplies piled sky-high behind her.

But this is exactly how he finds himself upon preparing to leave, staring at a slight girl with unnaturally large crystal blue eyes that could easily penetrate his soul, and a sweet smile laced with steel.

He internally sighs. He could have managed Lance’s scoffs and passive-aggressive commentary towards his departure, could have easily ignored Pidge’s scornful glances she cast his way. He could have fended off a kind Hunk as he pleaded for him to stay.

But Allura...

...Allura was stubborn. Allura was patient, clever and strong-willed. Allura was a soldier undercover as a princess.

Yeah.

It was going to be a battle to the death.

If a battle to the death consisted of some weird baking activity that Allura came up with. He frowned. How did she come up with the concept of ‘therapy baking’ anyways?

“Uh...so therapy baking,” he begins awkwardly, cringing when Allura’s attention diverts from the cake she's currently nuking to stare at him blankly.

_Wow. Nice. What are you gonna do next, Romeo, complement her horrible baking?  
_

Allura grabs the ketchup from besides Keith and heaves a giant squirt into the cake batter where it sits like a splatter of paint on an otherwise clean canvas. “Yes, Keith. Therapy baking. Hunk told me about it.”

He sighs, placing his cheek in the palm of his hand, eyeing her dispassionately. “Did he tell you not to put ketchup in cake batter?” He mutters to himself.

Allura flicks the spatula unintentionally, unleashing a spurt of red and white batter onto the surroundings. She stares at him innocently. “Hmm?”

Keith wipes a ketchup glob from his face. “Nothing.” He says dismissively.

Allura shrugs. “Can you pass me the mustard, please?”

Keith passes her the mustard.

“Thank you.”

“When you said we were going to be baking, I assumed that _we_ would be baking. Not just you nuking a perfectly good cake batter.”

Allura frowns. “But you're here with me. And you don't put the ketchup and the mustard in the cake? I thought we could put whatever we wanted in.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, slightly amused by her naïveté. “No, Allura. You can't just put whatever you want in. If Hunk were to walk in here and see you right now, he would have a hernia. First of all,” he grabs a bowl. “You have to start with a clean bowl. Not...that.”

Allura looks at her ketchup and mustardy pan, and then looks back at Keith’s clean metallic bowl. She nods. “Alright,” she says. “But I still don't understand. Why can you not mix in the pan you bake in? It would be quite faster and much more efficient.”

Keith shrugs, grabbing a stick of butter from the table. “I dunno,” he says, plopping it smoothly in the bowl. “I never invented Earth baking.”

Allura nods, those blue, blue eyes of hers open and curious. He's suddenly become aware of her proximity to him. She can feel the warmth emanating from her skin, smell the strawberry in her shampoo. His heart races and he focuses on mixing the homemade cake mix.

If Allura’s aware of his predicament ( _he_ _highly_ _doubts_ _it,_ _but_ _Allura_ _never_ _ceases_ _to_ _amaze_ _him_ ) she doesn't show it, instead melting his heart with that painfully soft smile of hers and that naïve wonderland present in her crystalline eyes. He frowns slightly. No. He can't do this again. Not to her. He was going to leave. He can’t lead Voltron. He _has_ to leave. He _can't_ —

“Keith? _Keith_!”

pHe stops mixing when he feels her warm hand atop his, inhibiting his movements with so much strength in those tiny fingers of hers. He flinches away, pretending not to see the flash of hurt that crosses her face when he does so.

Her arm returns to rest gently on his shoulder. It's smoldering under her touch but he doesn't scurry away this time. “Keith?” she whispers softly, gentle voice caressing his name. “Are you alright?”

He turns away from her then. Turns away that innocently worry-filled gaze of hers. “I'm fine.” He says with more anger than he intended.

“You're _not_ fine.” She retorts sternly, sounding more like the Allura he had come to recognize as his princess. “Tell me what's wrong.”

Keith keeps his silence. Her grip tightens on his shoulder.

“Keith,” she says warningly. “Tell me what's wrong. I can _help_ you. I _care_ about you...”

The sudden spark of anger grows to become a vehement flame. This was why he couldn't stay here. This was why Shiro was gone. Everyone he ever loved got hurt. Everyone who loved _him_  got hurt. It was his curse, always and forever. That was the terrible, _terrible_ price he payed for being part Galra. A thrum of hatred courses through him; he didn't deserve Allura’s affection. He didn't deserve Allura’s attention nor did he deserve her unyielding persistence. He wasn't a project; he wasn't some broken toy that needed fixing.

“Keith?”

His hands clench into fists and he shrugs her off. “I'm sorry, Princess. But I can't do this. I have to leave.” Her hand leaves his shoulder courtesy of his brushing.

Keith doesn’t look back for fear of breaking completely, for he knew something in those unnaturally blue eyes of hers would force him to his knees. Force him to stay with Voltron. Force him to stay with her and bake ketchup cakes forever. He shuts his eyes, knowing she's still there like an apparition, knowing she won't abandon him until she knows for sure he's alright.

Keith begins to walk towards the door, picking his bag off the floor.

“Please.”

The vulnerability in that single, whispered word is all it takes for him to falter, and he silently damns the unnatural power this woman has over him.

“Please,” she whispers brokenly. “You have to...you have to stay. I just want to help you.”

“I'm not a pity project, Allura.” He bites back without looking at her. _Don't look back. Don't look back._

“I know,” she says softly. “I know. But... you need to do this with me. Don't ask why because even I'm not entirely certain what baking is, much less how to do it.”

Now he does the unthinkable. He looks back into those crystal blue eyes, and he's hooked once more. Yet again, Keith Kogane is at the mercy of this Altean princess with her determination, uncanny compassion, and her small smile laced with steel. She smiles that very smile then, and he's hers once more.

The bags drop to the floor without his consent and he's by her side in an instant more, cracking an egg and stirring it into the batter. She smiles at him, a sweet, sweet smile of gratefulness and affection, and Keith decides that it's alright to be selfish with Allura at least once before he leaves for good.

Just a little while longer.

***

“Hunk would be berating me right now,” Keith mutters to the floor. “We should be starting off simple. Like making cookies.”

Allura looks up at him innocently. “Cookies?” she echoes. “Like the scaltrite ones Hunk made for us that one time?”

Keith snorts at her naïve commentary, and he meets her innocuous gaze. “Well, kinda,” he tells her. “Just...better.”

Her eyes narrow accusingly, and her mouth upturns in a sneaky smirk. Keith finds himself taking an involuntary step back, at the mercy of this woman and this unusual display of playfulness. “You think you can make cookies better than Hunk?”

He returns her smirk with one of his own. “Yep. Pretty sure.” He says lowly.

Her crystal blue eyes sparkle thoughtfully, and she hums, playing with the ties on the back of her apron. His eyes gravitate to her hands, and his throat goes dry. “I'd like to see that happen,” she murmurs playfully. “Hunk is a magnificent cook.”

“Well you don't know what _I_ can do in the kitchen yet, Allura.”

A small smile blooms intriguingly upon her lips. “Perhaps not,” Allura hums. “Then again, I don't know a lot about you.”

He goes quiet then, pain lancing like a dagger in the pit of his stomach.

_(“You don't know anything about me,” Keith hisses eyeing the strange man with obsidian eyes and a stubborn jaw._

_The man smiles sadly, stunning Keith into silence. “I’d like to know you.” He says, extending his hand. “My name is Takashi Shirogane, but everyone just calls me Shiro.”_

_After a few seconds of blatant staring, Keith grips Shiro’s hand, shaking it._

_“Keith Kogane.")_

“Keith? Are you alright?”

He kneads the batter with an expert hand, barely contained anger lacing every movement. “Tell me something, Allura.”

Keith can feel her gaze burning into him, that uncanny power she holds over him making him yield to her every command, making him hold onto every single word she says. “Anything,” she breathes gently. “What do you want to know?”

He’s gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turn deathly white. “Tell me about Altea. Tell me about you. _Say something_. Just distract me, please.”

She seems surprised at the sudden request, but she launches into a long, drawn out anecdote of her planet for him. Keith learns that Allura used to fear the winged creatures that used to linger outside her window, that she used to play some version of tag with her father in these very walls. He learns that Allura wished to pilot a lion when she grew up, always sneaking aboard the red lion while King Alfor was piloting. Though he always ended up catching her in the end, she always went back for more. He learns about the wild juniberries that grew outside the castle, and how Allura liked to pick them to place in little vases around the castle, carefully arranged to the little princess' specific tastes and precise places.

Keith is oddly comforted by her ramblings, and his concerns about Shiro fade away as he learns more and more about her. About this Altean princess that once seemed to be so far away from him.

He's oddly comforted to find out that underneath the authority and the leadership she outwardly displays, that Allura is still very much a young girl, robbed much too quickly of her childhood. And that, for some inexplicable reason, saddens him. No one should have to go through what she had to.

“Keith?”

“Thank you, Allura,” he tells her softly, sending her an unusually genuine soft smile. “I needed that.”

She returns the smile. “You are quite welcome,” Allura replies. “I could tell you were deep in thought.”

Keith scoffs and goes back to kneading the cookie dough. That’s an understatement if he's ever seen one.

***

After a few hours of baking, Allura and Keith sit down, perhaps knowingly, perhaps unknowingly, separated by a breadth of a hair. In the midst of eating a chocolate chip cookie that Keith whipped up, she laughingly demands that Keith share something little about himself.

When he grumpily refuses, she points out matter-of-factly that she had basically shared her entire life story with him in a matter of hours ( _or_ ‘ _vargas_ ’ _as_ _she_ _referred_ _to_ _them_ _as_ ).

Keith sighs bodily, folding his arms across his chest.

She smiles innocently. “What's your favorite color?”

His response is immediate. “I don't have one.”

She's rendered dumbfounded. “How do you _not_ have a favorite color? _Everyone_ has a favorite color!”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I just don't.”

“I don't believe you.” she says, lips pulling into a pout.

“I don't like colors.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course you don't." Allura humors him sarcastically. "Just pick one. Off the top of your head.”

He looks at her, straight into mesmerizing crystal blue. His mouth begins to move at its own accord. “Blue.”

The light undertones of her silver hair; the regal color in her dress that brings out the darkness to her mahogany skin; the vibrant, alluring tint to her amazing eyes. Eyes that widen in surprise, and narrow just as rapidly in pride. She smirks. “Good. I like blue as well.”

He hums thoughtfully, offering to teach Allura how to make scones. She regards him oddly, before nodding profusely. Keith smiles at her enthusiasm, and beckons her to his side.

“Ok, ‘Llura, the first tip to making a good batch of scones is you have to start with cold hands and cold butter. Scones are tough and you need to keep it light when making them. They like cold temperatures, Allura. Remember that.”

Keith's baking protege nods.

Keith smiles. “Good. Now hand me the butter.”

***

“How did you learn to bake this well, Keith?” She asks him as she whips up the butter per his precise instruction. “You really are quite good at it.”

“Believe it or not, my father taught me.” He tells her. “We didn't have much to do out in the desert, so we kinda...just used the supplies we had and baked. It's a little weird, sure, but that's what we did.”

Allura adopts a dreamy look, crystal blue eyes wide and innocent. She places her chin atop both her hands, watching awestruck as Keith stirred the batter. “It's alright,” she says softly. “I don't mind. I love hearing about your life.”

He smiles without looking at her.

“What was he like? Your father?”

Keith loses himself in remembrance and for a minute, the castle kitchen is replaced by a dark room of the tiny cabin, with tarps, scribbled maps and slight light streaming through the little windows. “He was kind,” Keith tells Allura quietly. “But also stern. He never backed down from a fight and always shared his opinion, no matter who would disagree.”

Allura smiles that sweet smile that sets his heart aflutter. “He sounds lovely.”

Keith scoffs in amusement. “‘Lovely’? Not really. But he was my dad, and I loved him.”

She places a hand on his, eliciting that scorching, burning warmth that came with her touch. “That's all that matters. That you loved him. It's not a bad thing to _love_ , Keith. It's what makes you human. Beautifully _human_.”

Keith turns his hand palm up and curls his fingers around hers, reminiscing in the feeling of her warming touch even if he didn't deserve it.

He doesn't remember the last time anyone told him that.

He's not even sure anyone ever has.

***

Keith isn't sure what time it is when Lance notices all the various baking supplies and goods surrounding the kitchen table. He supposes it's late, at least in Earth time, for the blue paladin enters the kitchen in his plaid pajamas and flowy blue robe, eyes dreary yet suspicious.

Allura looks up from whipping the egg whites for her lemon meringue pie to smile at Lance and greet him with a wave. Lance waves back at her in disbelief as she returns dutifully to her whipping, humming an Altean song under her breath. Lance looks to Keith, who’s sitting contentedly on the stool besides Allura, an unusual smile gracing his features as he watches Allura bake.

“Hey, Lance, what's up?”

Lance's gaze flicks from the humming Allura to the oddly cheerful Keith, back to Allura and then back to Keith again. “Uh... am I missing something? 'Cause something's super weird about this situation.”

“Nothing at all, Lance,” Allura pipes in, casting a glance to her blue paladin. “We’re just baking is all.”

“Uhhhh... you've been at this for like hours.”

Allura frowns absentmindedly. “Have we? I haven't been keeping track.”

“And _Keith_? You've been _baking_ with _Allura_?”

Keith is suddenly sheepish. “Well…”

“Oh, yes!” Allura chimes in with a fond glance to Keith. “He's really quite good at it, Lance.”

Lance stifles a chuckle, making Keith fume with frustration. He casts a mock glare to Allura, who smirks at him oh-so-innocently. “Keith?” He manages between laughs. “A...a... _baker_? Ha! That's priceless!”

He's silenced from his laughing spree when a gargantuan spurt of ketchup stains his pajamas red, like a thick blood. Lance stares down at the stain, and then his head swivels to accuse the grinning perpetrator. Keith smirks. “Looks good, Lance. I could get used to that look.”

Lance turns as red as the ketchup staining his plaid pants. He points an irate finger at Keith. “ _Ketchup_?” He demands incredulously. “Who uses _ketchup_ for _baking_?”

Keith squirts him again with a chuckle that brightens his countenance and lightens the dark circles under his eyes. “You do.”

Lance growls, snatching the mustard from a stunned Allura. “They don't call me Sharpshooter for _nothing_!” He cries, sending a stream of mustard at a smug Keith. It lands directly on the black material of the Blade’s uniform, staining it mustard yellow.

“You…” Keith scowls, standing up abruptly and launching at the blue paladin who sprays another jet of mustard at the former red paladin.

And this is how Keith finds himself in the middle of a ketchup-mustard war with his long term rival. What he doesn't expect, however, is for a spurt of chunky mayonnaise to land directly on his shoulder, a smug Allura laughing at him, the murder weapon tightly ensconced in her grip.

Keith gapes at her, a smirk sneaking on his face, and then the fight comes about full circle.

***

If it had been late before it certainly must have been late now. The condiment fight had long since ceased, after a half-asleep Pidge came to see what all the ruckus was and ended up directly in the heat of battle, mustard in the face clear evidence as to who took the first shot at the green paladin.

And so the battle stopped when a cross Pidge started yelling some choice words at Lance, which ended up with an apologetic Lance trailing an irate Pidge back down the hallway she came from ( _On_ _his_ _way_ _out_ , _Lance_ _made_ _sure_ _to_ _shoot_ _Keith_ _a_ ‘ _this_ _isn't_ _over_ ’ _look_ _before_ _the_ _voices_ _of_ _Pidge_ _and_ _Lance_ _faded_ _away_ _with_ _distance_ ).

Allura had long since fallen asleep on the kitchen counter, surrounded with splatters of ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise. Her hair had come out of its messy bun, pooling onto the table in cascading waves of silver and blue. A small piece of hair near her mouth flutters ever so sightly, following her even breaths and there is the slightest bit of ketchup on her nose.

Keith’s gaze reluctantly leaves the sleeping princess to gaze upon the battle grounds. Delicate pastries litter the table, dirty pans of all shapes and sizes covering the table and ground. The evidence of the battle is evident; red splatter soaks the walls, yellow goop drips from the light fixtures and white liquids ooze from the table surface landing subsequently onto the floor.

Keith turns his attention back to the sleeping Allura, whose hair shines in the glowing light of the bulbs above her. He tries not to think of The Blades and just how he meant to leave prior to spending the entire day with Allura. He tries not to think of others’ fates when they got too close to him as he kneels before the princess like her lowly servant. He tries not to think of what he feels when his thumb wipes the ketchup stain from her nose with the utmost care, or when her nose scrunches up and her lips turn up in a small smile.

“You really are something, aren't you, Princess?” he muses to himself. “Looks like you've won this round. I _did_ stay, didn't I?"

With a trembling finger, his digit comes to lightly brush that stray piece of silver hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, promising himself that tonight will be the last night he will be selfish with her, allowing himself to stay with her.

“One more night, ‘Llura.” he whispers to her, pressing his lips softly to her forehead in a caressing parody of a kiss. “One more night.”

She smiles in her sleep, as though she could hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me why but I'm pretty sure Lance and Keith would get in a fight with each other using condiments. And Allura, being Allura would have to join. 
> 
> I'm open to feedback from everyone! Thanks for reading!


	5. Allura and Pidge

"Pidge?”

The first cry is hesitant as every one of the paladins’ eyes locks onto the tumbling green lion, a heavy silence following the equally heavy blow that Pidge had just encountered. The Galra ship who had shot Pidge down is quickly blasted by a furious Hunk, and shot at again by an infuriated Lance. Allura just watches frozen as Pidge goes tumbling into space, frighteningly out of control.

When Pidge doesn't respond to the initial query, the cry on the intercom becomes shrill, panicked.

“Pidge?!”

Static answers Lance's desperate call. Allura’s gaze remains firmly on the limp green lion, waiting for it to twitch, move, waiting for it to do anything.

And do something it does.

It falls.

Gravity from a nearby planet snatches the green lion and Pidge in its unyielding grip, and she falls.

Pidge goes down quickly, sparks flying off the green lion. She lands with a harsh bang, and a large divot is implanted in the ground where she made impact.

Allura's heart drops as quickly as her youngest paladin had.

“ _PIDGE!!_ ” Lance shrieks, the red lion racing to the planet’s surface.

Pidge gives no response, and it is only then that Allura finds the voice to scream, her desperate cries joining those of her fellow teammates.

***

They journey back to the castle in panicked silence. Lance leaps thoughtlessly into the green lion and emerges with a limp Pidge in his arms subsequently. Allura isn't sure how she gets there, but suddenly she's besides the pair, searching tirelessly for a sign to disprove the collective thought running through everyone's minds. Lance allows her contact with a grim expression, a mind morbidly elsewhere, and dull eyes lacking their usual boyish energy. Her eyes lock onto the prone form of Pidge, still and quiet and more vulnerable than Allura had ever seen her.

_My god she looks so young._

She lets out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding when she feels the light but steady thrum of a heartbeat underneath her fingertips.

“She's alive.” Allura breathes quietly, hearing her own voice as if miles away from the source.

Subconsciously, she locks eyes with Keith, who had been quiet throughout the entirety of the chaos. He looks like he's burning as he watches the scene unfold, and he grimaces when Allura offers him a sad smile. But he joins the team as they help to carry the limp Pidge ( _my god she's so young_ ) into the red lion with Lance, and together, he and Hunk take the prone green lion into its hangar.

Allura meets a solemn Lance and an unconscious Pidge in the red lion’s hangar, offering to carry Pidge into one of the cryopods. Lance, with glassy eyes and a mirthless smile, politely declines her offer, instead carrying Pidge himself.

She follows behind them awkwardly, having a lingering feeling that Pidge's accident was her fault.

She should have been a better leader. If she had been, this never would have happened. Pidge wouldn't have been hurt if Allura had just known what she was doing.

What kind of a leader was she if she couldn't even protect those under her care?

What kind of leader allows another to get hurt? This wasn't what the Earthlings were here for. Sure the missions had danger written all over them, but that didn't mean that she, Allura, wouldn't do _anything_ in her power to protect her team. She didn't _want_ them risking their lives. She didn't _want_ them to throw their lives away.

But today, she failed. And that had almost cost Pidge her life.

_She is just a child._

Allura heaves a sudden sob, and pushes past the other paladins behind her, unable to look them in the eyes. Allura forces herself to walk at a reasonable pace as she flees the scene, for fear of catching too much attention. She can't be here. Because she can't watch Pidge in that cryopod knowing it was her fault. Because she _can't_ watch Pidge and notice just how _small_ , _vulnerable_ she looks as she recovers from potentially life threatening injuries.

_For heaven’s sake, she's just a child!_

“Allura? Allura!”

 _No_. Allura picks up her pace, quickening to a jog.

“Allura!”

She ignores the repeating call of her name, ignores the worried cries, growing more and more desperate and more and more consternated as she gets farther and farther away. Allura ignores it all. She doesn't want them pitying her, she doesn't want them to see her at a rare vulnerable moment. All she needs right now is some much deprived time to herself.

That's all.

***

She finds shelter in the least likely place.

The Artificial Intelligence chamber that once housed King Alfor’s memories is as decrepit and abandoned as it had been since she released him from the castle, and from her life. Broken glass litters the ground, and a faint blue light illuminates Allura's path.

She's not sure why she found this place, but in all its mournful remembrance, Allura finds some comfort that she had long since been without. Perhaps some residual part of Alfor had never really left this room.

The thought brings tears to her eyes. She wipes them hastily away, for the time for mourning her father had long since past. He was gone.

She steps carefully into the room, hearing the door hiss shut behind her. Allura follows the path leading to the broken memory chamber, shards of glass cracking underneath her feet, scarce light of the artificial technology bathing the room in a soft blue glow and unnatural quiet seeming to carry farther than a plethora of noise would have.

Allura isn't quite sure why she's here. Some part of her knows that she should be with the team, helping Pidge to recover, but the other, more selfish part of her wants this, _needs_ this time to herself. She needed to grieve alone. She needed time to be Just Allura.

Not Princess Allura of Altea, not Paladin of the Blue Lion, not Pilot for the esteemed Castle of Lions, and not Leader of The Voltron Coalition and not the Hope for the Rebellion.

She needed time to mourn the girl she had been.

A girl who had sacrificed too much and lost even more. A girl whose entire race had been destroyed because of a misunderstanding and an addiction that had cost lives. Lives of Alteans and of Galra alike. A girl who was forced into leadership naïve and unprepared. A girl who had virtually no time to mourn her family.

So she sits next to the broken pod.

And she mourns Allura.

And she thinks of Pidge, who is currently unconscious somewhere in a pod, courtesy of Allura’s juvenile choosings in selecting paladins.

Because, in reality, is Pidge any different? Pidge is a girl who had lost her father. Pidge is a girl who had been ripped away of the life she had always known, of the planet she had once called home, to be unceremoniously thrown into a war that was not originally hers to fight.

Because, _god_ , Pidge is just a _child_.

And _Allura_ brought her into this.

It was _Allura's_ fault that Pidge got hurt.

Everyone has their individual breaking point, and Allura's comes ten thousand years, nearly a billion deaths, one shattered memory pod and one wounded paladin later.

***

He finds her here not an hour later, making his presence known with a hiss of the door opening and light footsteps treading closer to where she's huddling.

Allura can barely muster the strength to lift her head when she hears him call out her name, voice tremulous with surprise and worry.

Allura feels a shocking rush of calm wash over her as the low timbre of his voice reaches her ears. She firmly believes that his voice is passion and power, vulnerability and kindness, expertly hidden underneath a fear of being used. A fear of being abandoned.

She's suddenly embarrassed of her condition. Of her runny nose, her tear-stained cheeks and her bloodshot eyes. Who is she to be upset? Pidge was to be fine. _She_ was to be fine. But still, Keith had always seen her as everyone else on the team had. As a leader, as a beacon of hope, as a crushing force of unstoppable authority. He will leave soon, she thinks. He hadn't known the child beloved by her father and mother. He hadn't known the girl, with her petty attitude and spoiled lifestyle. With her blissful naïveté and her convenient sheltering.

He will be disappointed with her, he who values strength, he who values leadership and the importance of determination over all else. She'd only ever shown him the resilient, indomitable parts of herself. That part capable of leading an army, or waging a war without faltering.

The part that unashamedly faced any sort of problem tossed her way.

But now she's nothing more than a defeated girl hiding in the corner of a dead room, just wanting a single moment to herself. Just wanting a single moment to be the girl that she once was. And she knew he was watching her, that he would be silently judging the girl that he had never before seen.

Allura's head remains ensconced in her hands, perhaps employing the idea that if she doesn't see him, that she won't promptly exist. But her sharp ears hear no sound of departure. No hiss of the electronic door, no cracks as glass breaks underneath his feet.

But she does hear her name once more, low voice laced with worry and barely concealed panic.

Which means...he hasn't left yet.

How odd.

Some small part of her marvels at just when this man’s opinion of her became so important to her. She presumes it had been some time in between his suicide attempt, grieving Shiro for the second time and the therapy baking they had done as a coping strategy.

 _How_ _well_ _that_ _worked_ , Allura thinks to herself, sarcasm thrumming through her subconscious.

Allura hears the crunching of glass just in front of her, feels a soft breath caressing the hands hiding her undesirable condition from him and ruffling the stray pieces of silvery hair that had come undone from her bun. Two hands grip her wrists like iron bands, threatening to break this one flimsy barrier that she hastily created to stay safely behind.

“Allura, look at me.”

Perhaps it's childish, but Allura fails to comply with this simple request, shaking her head, and burying it further into her hands as a response.

“Allura, _please_. You have to look at me.”

“Please,” she whispers in return. “Please just go. I need some time to myself.”

His hands tighten around her wrists. “You never gave up on me, Allura.” Keith responds gruffly. “Now I'm not going to give up on you. Just look at me, ‘Llura, _please_.”

Her heart stutters at the nickname, a rosy red blush threatening to blossom upon her obscured cheeks. Once again, she wonders when the opinion of this Earthen man had become so important to her. She wonders when she had bonded with someone related to those who decimated her entire race. She wonders why she now values his friendship more than virtually anything.

He called her ‘Llura.

Nicknames that flow so easily off of Lance’s tongue mean virtually nothing to her; terms of endearment for Lance are flippant and common, come to him as easily as breathing. But Keith is an enigma wrapped inside of another enigma. The new black paladin is one of the most reserved people Allura had ever met. He gives out nicknames sparingly, and she was one of the precious few who earned one.

'Llura.

So she removes her hands carefully from her face, eyes cautiously peering into a familiar one. One that sent a surprising wave of calmness through her otherwise turbulent mind. Keith shoots her a crooked smile laced with something akin to genuine relief, making her heart flutter unintentionally.

He hasn't left yet.

“There she is.” He says lightly, crooked grin slackening just marginally after he has spoken. “Everyone's worried about you, you know. Why’d you run away?”

Allura merely stares at him blankly, employing some of her more childish attributes in refusing to respond.

“Allura, please. If you're hurt, you need to tell me. Did you get hurt too?” She's surprised to hear the barely concealed anger thrumming just under the surface of his calm demeanor, restlessness and worry for her wellbeing simmering below.

It is this very jolt of surprise that surges through her that elicits a response.

“Sometimes I doubt myself, Keith. Sometimes I simply cannot do it anymore.” She tells him this in a nearly inaudible whisper, as if admitting a weakness.

Concern touches his eyes for a brief instant, hands tightening anxiously on her wrists. She wasn't even aware he hadn't removed them. “What can't you do anymore? Are you okay?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Are you hurt?” He asks in an almost desperate query.

Allura looks down at her hands, Keith's own wrapped firmly around her wrists, either allowing her some form of comfort or preventing her from escaping. But she doesn't respond, for fear of having to face his predicted lecture or his pity.

“‘Llura, please. Where are you hurt?”

Allura chuckles a mirthless breathy laugh. “My heart,” she tells him shakily, knowing her response is childish but somehow hoping that he would understand. “My heart hurts, Keith.”

His eyes soften, and thumbs come up to brush tears from her cheeks. She smiles softly, resting her cheek in his hand. He allows her to, thumb tracing idle patterns on her tear-stained cheeks.

“Do you wanna talk about it? Allura?”

She looks at him, placing her hand on the one upon her face. “I have made a terrible mistake,” she tells him. “I never should have made you all paladins.”

Keith frowns. “Allura, we've accomplished—”

“I _know_ what you've accomplished and you've all been _wonderful_ paladins, but...you're only children. Pidge almost _died_ today, Keith. Shiro is _dead_ ,” Allura ignores the flash of pain that crossed his features as she mentioned his past mentor. She keeps going. “ _You_ almost died. On Naxela. I've almost lost all of you at least once, Keith. And your lives should be just beginning. I should have never—”

Keith tightens his grip on her wrists, pulling her into his chest. “No, no, no.” He says. “No, no, Allura. We chose this too. I never blamed you for what we've gone through. Not once.”

She buries her face in her shoulder. “But she's just...she's just a _child_!” She sobs into his shoulder. “How could I have been so _careless_? She...she's a _mere_ _child_!”

Allura feels him running fingers through her hair, whispering comfortingly in her ears. “No, no, _no_ , Allura.” He whispers. “Pidge is going to be _fine_. I'm _fine_. Lance is _fine_. Hunk is _fine_. We're all happy to be here, honored to be working with you to stop Zarkon. _Shhhhhh_. _Shhhhh_. We're alright, Allura. We're alright.”

“But you _left_!” She cries, hitting his shoulder now. “You _left_ us! Alone with the clone! Keith, how do I know you won't leave again? How do I know you're going to be alright if you are not here? How do I know you're going to be alright when you...you…”

“No, no, no. I'm not going to leave, Allura. I'm not going to leave. I'll be here. I'll be right here.”

Teary crystal blue eyes look to sink into dark ones, flecks of violet concealed by the darkness of the room. She laughs in relief, a small smile touching upon her lips. “What? You are?”

A soft half-smile lingers upon his lips, thumb brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “I am. I'm going to stay.”

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I cannot do this on my own, Keith. I need you here.”

He presses a kiss to her hair, rocking her back and forth soothingly. She cannot remember a time where she was held like this, her upper body ensconced tightly against another and strong arms engulfing her securely. She cannot remember a time where she didn't have to be a pinnacle for strength, or a beacon for hope for anyone.

“You're strong, Allura.” He tells her softly. “You are strong, but that doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time. You can… I dunno... _let_ _go_ every once and awhile. We— _I_ will always be here for you. You know, like you were for me when Shiro…”

She smiles at him, snuggling further into his chest. He presses a small kiss to her forehead, and Just Allura ( _not Princess Allura of Altea, not Paladin of the Blue Lion, not Pilot for the esteemed Castle of Lions, not Leader of the Voltron Coalition and not Hope for the Rebellion_.) feels her heart lift with joy at not having to fight this battle alone. For Keith was here, and he told her he wasn't leaving.

“Keith? Allura? Are you guys okay in here?”

Two heads turn their attention to where Hunk’s head poked in the doorway. He smiles at them after an initial confused look passes across his face at a crying Allura ensconced tightly in Keith’s comforting embrace.

“She's awake, guys. Pidge, I mean. She's up.” Hunk leans his weight indolently on the wall. “So you wanna go see her?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so edgy. I swear I don't usually make my work so cringy but I started typing and this is what came out. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope it's not as horrible as I think it is but it probably is.


	6. Keith and Lance

Allura smiles at him, a soft smile that concealed her uncertainty from him. Not so well, he notices as he watches the princess fiddle absentmindedly with her hands, uneasily looking to the door where Pidge is apparently waiting.

Her eyes harden, and suddenly she's fierce, unyielding Allura once more, the broken little girl that she had once shown to Keith now hidden behind that tough personage she puts up. And for some inexplicable reason, it upsets him that she has to hide the part of herself that she perceives to be _vulnerable_. It infuriates him on how she has to put up this front, and be this leader when her mindset is so unstable.

Only when he puts a hand on her shoulder does she turn to him, crystal blue eyes unwavering yet achingly sad. His eyes harden in restless frustration for her and it's all he can do not to throw a series of punches.

To which he can't do to _her_.

Never to _her_.

So he settles for squeezing her shoulder perhaps a bit harder than necessary, and heaving a solemn sigh. “You know, you don't have to do this yet,” he tells her quietly, fiercely. “I can take you back to your room, you can get some sleep and then see Pidge when you're a bit more...stable.”

She frowns disapprovingly, eyes peering up at him accusingly from underneath long lashes. “Keith,” she says sternly, in that authoritative tone that made Zarkon’s witch flee from her, that tone that had subdued countless emissaries, that wielded control like a whip, and brought in many allies for the Voltron Coalition. It is then he knows he lost this uphill battle. She smiles at him, as though knowing his train of thought. “I’m alright. I promise.” The princess grasps his hand, intertwining her slender fingers with his larger ones. “I appreciate the concern, but I've looked after myself long before you were born. I can handle seeing a teammate recovering without bursting into tears.”

Keith stares at her accusingly. Her eyes harden.

“Keith. You cannot stop me from seeing Pidge.”

He purses his lips. “You sure you don't wanna do this tomorrow?” Keith asks uncertainly.

Allura nods. “I am certain,” she replies, giving his hand a squeeze before releasing it. She begins to walk into the room when she pauses, eyeing him fondly over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

He eyes her in disbelief, wondering what he had been thinking befriending someone so inherently stubborn. But he takes her outstretched hand, accepting the soothing warmth that comes with her touch, and follows Allura in to see their fallen comrade.

***

She enters first, Keith following directly behind her. He doesn't at first notice the odd looks the paladins give the pair as Allura strolls in, Keith’s hand entwined in her nearly unyielding grip. He's more interested in the newly found décor adorning the otherwise morbid cryopod room. Small green butterflies hang clumsily from the cryopods in the room, green streamers thrown haphazardly in random directions and confetti littering the floor.

It looks like a trashy jungle, Keith thinks to himself.

In the center, sits Pidge, her hair newly fluffed, and uncracked glasses perched dutifully atop her button nose. Brown eyes flecked with liquid honey regard Allura and Keith fondly, a grin spreading across her lips at the sight of them.

At her right side is Lance, who looks like he had gone through a blender and back. His usually sleek mahogany hair is mussed and disheveled, perhaps done by many repeated anxious runnings through it, and his shirt is wrinkled and speckled with stains. But still, even though he looked worse for wear, his enthusiasm shines brighter than any other star, and his bloodshot eyes sparkle fondly as they rest upon the small girl with the large honey eyes as she sits comfortably besides him. Keith can't help but notice the smile fall as he lays eyes on Keith, a small, angry glower surfacing on his lips.

Hunk is smiling, leaning against the wall while playing absentmindedly with a paper green butterfly on one of the cryopods. One look at Keith and Allura, and his grin widens immensely.

Pidge snorts. “Took you guys long enough,” she teases. “What were you guys even doing? Making out or something?”

Keith feels a blush surface on his cheeks, and judging by Pidge’s small smirk, she knows she hit him in exactly the right spot. But her smirk is immediately wiped off her face as she's suddenly attacked by an affectionate princess who apparently didn't hear Pidge's... inappropriate commentary.

“Oh, Pidge, I'm so happy you're alright! You have no idea how worried I was!”

Pidge looks like her already large eyes are about to pop out of her head, and her face is beginning to resemble that of a giant tomato. Keith touches Allura’s shoulder gently. “Allura, I don't think—”

“A…’llura...hurting me...please…”

Allura leaps back in shock, the scent of her hair wafting into Keith's nose as it brushes unintentionally across his face. “Oh, my goodness! My sincerest apologies, Pidge.”

Pidge readjusts her glasses, a sheepish smile unearthing. “‘S alright, Allura,” she says. “I'm fine...well mostly.”

Lance frowns. “You good, Pidge?”

The green paladin nods to her friend. “Yeah, Lance, I'm fine. I think she just bruised me a bit.”

The new red paladin releases a small sigh, looking to Pidge with something akin to relief. Keith's sweeping gaze begins at a quiet Pidge, small smile lingering on her lips, then it travels to Lance, who carries traces of pain in his eyes, more dominated by worry and something akin to affection as he regards Pidge. His eyes narrow as he catches Keith’s gaze.

Keith raises an eyebrow. Interesting.

The black paladin clears his throat, causing four curious pairs of eyes to rest on him. Keith tries not to shrink under all the rare attention, instead focusing on his friend. “Hey, Lance. You mind if we talk outside?”

Crystal blue eyes regard him questioningly. He silences her with a quick squeeze upon her shoulder. She replies with a dissatisfied nod, and a concoction of concern and uncertainty upon her face.

Lance is currently staring at Keith with something mirroring Allura’s expression, but his contains much less concern, and much more uninhibited suspicion. Apparently when one faces the entire might of the Galra empire on a daily basis, one is to carefully scrutinize each individual scenario with more skepticism. He scratches the back of his head. “Uh, yeah sure. I guess.”

When no one moves, Keith sighs.

“Alone.”

Lance’s eyes spark with sudden understanding. “Oh! Yeah that's fine. Wanna go outside?”

Keith sighs once more. “Yeah. That's as good a place as any.”

The black paladin meets Allura’s gaze once more, watching both her sweet smile creep across her face and her eyes sparkling with something related to the way Lance looked at Pidge. He looks firmly away.

_No, Keith. That's not what’s going on. Remember who you are._

He turns back to Allura, who now has a concerned light in those mesmerizing eyes of hers, and he returns her soft smile with a rare genuine smile of his own.

“Keith? What the hell, man? Are you and Allura just gonna keep having eye sex with each other or are you coming outside to talk?”

Keith sighs bodily, rolling his eyes at the particularly obtuse one in the room. “Coming, Lance. Don't get your ketchup covered panties in a twist.”

It takes a while for his mind to comprehend the jab, but when he does, he broadcasts his outrage with a single, “hey!”

Keith snickers, then follows Lance into the hallway, closing the door to Allura and Pidge behind him, feeling her concerned gaze boring into him as he does so.

***

Lance seems to be restless, every so often casting a glance to the door where he had left Pidge. Keith regards him with practiced dispassion, his arms folded across his chest in deceptive anger.

They stand in silence for a short while, Keith figuring out Lance’s train of thought by reading his tense body language and apparent discomfort. Soon however, the red paladin catches onto Keith’s strategy, and he crosses his arms apathetically, narrowed blue eyes showing almost no trace of concern for the green paladin and barely less indignancy for the man standing before him.

“Lance.”

“ _What_ , Keith?”

“You're mad at me. Why?”

Lance scoffs. “What in hell makes you think I'm mad at you? It's not like you left, almost killed yourself, distanced yourself from us afterwards and only came to help us when we were under attack.”

Keith sighs. “Lance—”

But Lance isn't done. “Not to mention that Allura’s following you around like a lost puppy. Don't think I don't see how she looks at you. She thinks you're like freaking Jesus Christ or something.”

“Lance, I—”

“I just want you to think about what you're doing, man. Allura’s banking on you staying here. Hell, we all are.” He pauses. “But if you go back to the Blades, I'm not sure how we would cope. We need you, man. We need you here piloting—”

“Lance!” Keith interrupts loudly. Lance’s mouth shut, blue eyes staring at him in shock. “I get it, okay? I know you're worried about Allura and I know you're worried about the team. Honestly, I'm staying. I've already told Allura. I'm not going back to the Blades.”

Lance’s mouth opens and closes, then opens again. “Oh. Okay then.” He grins. “Great! Then that's all I needed to hear.” Lance pats him familiarly on the back, in Keith's opinion, perhaps a bit too hard. “Good job, Mullet. You finally understand the great values of friendship.” Lance grins widely, like a deranged sociopath, whispering like he's admitting some huge secret. “Just so you know, you might wanna consider cutting your hair, dude. I don't think Allura digs the mullet.”

Keith growls, pushing a laughing Lance off of him. “Jesus Christ, man! Will you stop making fun of my hair already?! And it's not like _that_ with Allura. God!”

Lance chuckes more, extending a hand to the top of Keith’s head, and messing up his uniquely styled hair cut. “Uh-huh.” he replies. “ _Suuuuuure_ it's not. It's not like she's suuuper hot or something.”

Keith scowls. “Lance! Cut it out man!”

But the red paladin is already gone, throwing open the doors to where Pidge, Allura and Hunk wait placidly for their return.

***

Keith stalks after a playfully skipping Lance back into the cryopod room, the latter seeming to be in much better spirits after finally understanding Keith’s new plan.

Allura brightens upon seeing the pair enter once more, questioning blue eyes landing automatically on Keith, who stares blatantly at her (“ _Took you guys long enough. What were you guys even doing? Making out or something?”_ ). A small endearing frown makes its way across her face, and her head tilts in confusion. “Keith? Are you alright?”

_(“Keith? What the hell, man? Are you and Allura just gonna keep having eye sex with each other or are you coming outside to talk?”)._

“Keith?” Pidge looks at him uncertainly, honey colored eyes evident with concern. “Hey,” she snaps her fingers. “dude, why don't you sit down?”( _“Not to mention that Allura’s following you around like a lost puppy. Don't think I don't see how she looks at you. She thinks you're like freaking Jesus Christ or something.”)_

Keith meets Lance’s gaze next, the aforementioned currently sitting besides a worried Pidge, and sporting a sly smile effortlessly. It's all Keith can do not to punch Lance right in his smug face ( _“Just so you know, you might wanna consider cutting your hair, dude. I don't think Allura digs the mullet.”)._

“Keith.” A soft voice caressing his name brings him it of his own mind, and the black paladin looks down to see her right there. A slender hand is pressed comfortingly on his arm, squeezing it gently, and large crystal blue eyes regard him with concern. Belatedly, he wonders when exactly he had allowed her to get so close to him and when exactly she had been granted access to the deepest confines of his heart. He wonders when she had begun to elicit feelings he had always dismissed as mere stories, and that he, like a big bad villain in one of those stories would never get to have. She's so close, he can see the cerulean blue flecks in her crystalline eyes, and the pretty pale pink of her pupils.

“Yes?” he breathes. “‘Llura, what is it?”

The term of endearment flows seamlessly off his tongue, and he can see her eyes widen at it. His heart rate accelerates unintentionally. Could it be possible that he elicits the same reaction from her that she does for him?

“Ah-hem.”

They turn to Lance, who coughs deliberately.

“Seriously, get a room.”

Allura blushes, and Keith glares daggers at the red paladin.

“We're not—”

“Oh, no, Lance that isn't—”

He grins. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Pidge laughs at them, and Lance gives her an almost imperceptible squeeze on the shoulder. Hunk just looks uncomfortable. They descend into an awkward fit of laughter soon thereafter, relief for Pidge overcoming everything else.

Keith feels small fingers intertwine with his own behind his back, and when he looks to Allura, the fingers squeeze his own. But she doesn't give any other indication acknowledging anything suspicious, save for the light blush gracing her cheeks. He smiles in a rare genuine moment of happiness, and squeezes the hand back.

A ghost of a smile touches upon Allura’s lips, but she gives no response.


	7. Keith and Allura Finale: Did you love him?

He's lost time of how many seconds, minutes, hours he's been sitting in the old black paladin’s room, the numbness of his body not matching the thousands upon thousands of turbulent thoughts rushing through his head per minute.

He does know, however, that ever since he had decided to take the place of the black paladin, that Shiro’s room had become a sanctum of sorts, both a place of tranquility and a place of solitude, filled with emptiness and an eerie sort of mourning that ghosted along the walls and danced in the open air. There's something inhuman about the monotonous gray walls and pristinely untouched bed, something inexplicably sad about the dust particles that mill aimlessly about, and something inherently lonely about the thin stream of gray light from the sole yellow bulb that illuminates the musty floor and lengthens the shadows of the scarce furniture into ghoulish extensions.

Keith sits in the corner, watching the room dance its mournful dance with mild curiosity. He's reminded ever so slightly of the past as he does so. The idea of Shiro living in this dead room is enough to stir a bitter nostalgia inside him, resentment of _what could have been_ done, and _what came to be_ instead, bubbling in his veins and carrying to his heart ( _did it join the Galra blood or the human blood?_ ).

“Keith?”

He lifts his head when her voice reaches his ears, a sense of something akin to great calm washing over him. Allura is standing in the doorway, eyes curious and concerned, hands resting idly at her sides. She regards him cautiously, for Allura has this uncanny ability to read him perfectly.

He sometimes ponders what would have happened to her if he had never come back. Would Allura have hated him again? Would he never have seen her again under the same circumstances, under the same familial relationship they had tentatively built feeble brick by feeble brick? Would that aforementioned relationship have been reduced to nothing more than bare comradeship going forwards? Her and the paladins, and him and the Blade of Marmora?

Would she have been _dead_ should he never have come back?

The sudden image rises to his already chaotic mind. Keith shudders involuntarily despite the warm room.

“Keith, you've been spending an awful lot of time in here lately,” she says gently, bringing him tumbling from his morbid thoughts. “Would you mind telling me what's going on?”

At the surprisingly welcomed sight of his princess, he loosens a bit, a certain soft smile that he reserves only for her playing on his lips. He is reminded briefly of their first encounter here, when he had impulsively brushed her concern off as pity and when he had wrongly guarded his hidden vulnerability from her with his own instinctive snark.

Oh, how their relationship has changed, he thinks as he pats the area next to him and she sits besides him, resting a lovely warm hand atop his.

Oh how their relationship has changed, he thinks as her eyes regard him openly, questioning him silently in that way she does.

Oh how their relationship has changed, he thinks as she rests her head against his right shoulder, her soft breath tickling his bare skin and silky strands of her hair that have escaped the confines of her messy bun brushing against the nape of his neck.

Oh how their relationship has changed, he thinks as he places an arm tentatively around her, unused to touch but equally willing to accept it. _Especially_ when it came to her.

“You can tell me what's wrong you know,” Allura whispers against him. “I have never thought you inferior due to your struggles. They make you _human_ , Keith. Remember that.”

He sighs, feeling her stir slightly against him. His hand comes up to instinctively brush a small strand of hair from her face, and subsequently comes to encircle her again, bringing her closer even if he feels he doesn't deserve her. “I still miss him, Allura,” he tells her honestly. “He was basically my brother.”

She turns her head to look at him, crystal blue eyes open and vulnerable, innocent and compassionate. “I know,” she sighs, raising a hand to brush some strands of hair from his face, eliciting wonderful tingles where her fingertips brush against his skin. “I know. He really was something, wasn't he?” She sighs again, a soft sigh full of something akin to unrequited emotion and barely perceptible pain.

Keith absentmindedly traces a finger along her Altean markings, drawing idle patterns along her cheek. Some remnant of a strong emotion bubbles up inside him at hearing her speak fondly of Shiro. Even as she's here besides him, encompassed tightly within his unyielding grasp, he cannot help but feel as if she has never truly been _his_.

After all, he remembers watching Shiro and Allura with mild intrigue, watching the professional distance they kept between them, but all the while understanding the underlying feelings that had been barely there but also so very present. He remembers the authoritative nods interspersed between gentle touches and longing glances. He remembers the way he looked at her. He remembers the way _she_ looked at _him_.

But Shiro was dead.

And Allura was still here.

Allura was with _him_ right now.

Did she miss him? Would she rather be with Shiro right now instead of this Galran-human hybrid thing that she had come to pity?

A second burning feeling returns, stronger this time, images of Allura ensconced within the arms of another rising to the forefront of his tired mind. The other man bearing a stubborn jaw, oddly compassionate obsidian eyes and a small floof of snow white hair contrasting with otherwise raven black. That man pressing a soft kiss to her hair as she snuggles up against him, smiling that sweet, sweet smile that Keith had always believed she reserved for _him_. The burning feeling, an irascible sense of _jealousy_ , surges within him, fervid and vehement as a flame.

“Keith?”

He hums gruffly, anger thrumming in his tone, his hands ceasing their gentle caresses with her hair.

“You understand that I am always here for you, correct?”

He stays silent.

“Keith? What is it?”

“It's nothing, ‘Llura.” He lies lowly.

“As much as I wish that to be true,” she tells him, looking up at him coolly. “We both know that's a lie. Now try again.”

Keith sighs, resuming his languid strokes in her hair. She had won this battle as she did every other that she and he had ever taken part in. “Did you ever…? You know…”

“Hmmm?” She asks lightly with open curiosity. “Did I ever what?”

There is a guarded hesitance in his voice as he asks the dreaded question. He hears it, and he's pretty sure the girl nestled snugly against him hears it as well.

“Did you love him? You know…”

There is a brief second of shocked repose, and a solemn hum of acknowledgement at his unspoken implication. Her eyes develop a sheen, glossed over stare as she descends into deep thought. Keith silently wills her to look at him, which she doesn't do. “I very much admired him, Keith.” She tells him. “He was kind, loving, and selfless in everything he did. He was a great leader of you all and of the black lion. One of the best I have ever seen. He bested even Zarkon, in my opinion.”

“That didn't answer my question.” He tells her with practiced apathy. Apathy that he's pretty sure is rendered transparent in regards to Allura.

“I don't know if I ever did,” she says quietly still not quite looking at him. “Perhaps there was something there that I was too careless to see. I can't really say.”

“He loved you,” Keith tells her softly. “I know it. In all my time knowing Shiro, never before had he been so… _upset_. You know, a while ago when you sacrificed yourself to help him escape. You freaking handed over your kamikazi ass over to Zarkon, Allura. Please tell me you remember that.”

He wisely decides not to mention his foolish notion of not going to save Allura at all during that time period, instead averting her gaze. But Allura is caught up on a word she doesn't quite understand, slight eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Kami-what?”

He sighs, shaking his head dismissively. “It doesn't matter. Anyways, I don't know, maybe I'm overthinking the whole thing. But I knew him well, Allura. And he did feel something for you. He probably would have even grown to love you if he was still here,” Keith adds as a muttered afterthought. Allura stares blatantly at him, signifying that she had heard.

“It wouldn't matter even if he did grow to love me. It never would have come to fruition,” she whispers. “He's gone now, and there's nothing we can do. Besides,” she offers him a small smile. “I don't think I could have ever been happy with him.”

Keith pulls away from her to look at her more carefully. “ _Why_? Wasn't he your storybook hero or something? You basically just said you,” he slips into a horrendous Allura impression, which makes her snicker. “‘‘very much admired him’ or something? How _wouldn't_ you have been happy? I mean...it's _Shiro_. He was like perfect.”

She sighs, a small indiscernible smile lingering on her lips. Allura rests her head upon his shoulder once more. “Oh, Keith. How little you know about love.”

He frowns. “What's that supposed to mean?” Keith huffs.

He doesn't expect to hear Allura's amused chuckles as a response. “Oh, no. Do not take offense to that, Keith. I only mean that you are rather clueless.”

“And how am I not supposed to take offense to that? You just basically called me stupid, clueless and—”

He's silenced in the most unexpected way.

Soft lips press chastely against his, stealing away his breath, slender hands coming up to tangle in his locks of raven hair. An instinctively startled noise sounds in the back of his throat, before he slips his arms around her waist, tugging her inherently closer. His deft hands swiftly yank her hair out of its confines so that it cascades in soft, silver waves around them, tickling the nape of his neck as the waves gently caress his skin. Allura entwines her arms around his neck, using the momentum to tug herself closer, until her body melds to him like a flower stretching towards the sun. An overwhelmed Keith readily pulls her even closer, subtly wondering just what he had ever done to deserve this. To deserve _her_.

Every sense is encompassed by her, her strawberry scented hair curling around his neck, her arms folded around him, her body tucked tightly against him, her mouth moving deftly with his, soft breath caressing his lips. Everything he smells is Allura, everything he sees is Allura, everything he tastes, hears, _feels_ , is Allura.

He suddenly understands why the movies in their typically cliché fashion, devote so much time to the much anticipated kissing scenes. The camera endlessly circling, the dramatic music playing from the unseen stereo, the background faded intentionally to focus on details zoomed to maximum power for both of the characters. Raindrops on skin, every single wet strand of hair sticking to skin, the angular structures of their faces. The two together… as if there is only him and there is only her.

And right now… there is.

There is Keith and there is Allura. No distinction between them. No place where he ends and she begins.

To him, there is only Allura.

Some small fleeting part of him realizes that this is his first kiss…

And as quickly as it began, it ends, Allura pulling back, reciprocating with a gentle kiss atop his forehead. He opens his eyes, heavy-lidded gaze drawn to deep chasms of beautiful crystal blue.  
Somehow, when she pulls away, all he could summon to his lips is a faint, “ _oh_ ” of sudden comprehension.

“Do you understand now, Keith?” She asks him softly, breath coasting against his lips. He resists the urge to lean in once more and take her for his own yet again.

“Uhhhh, I think so.” He tells her huskily, finger tracing the sides of her jaw and up to the Altean marking under her eye. “Yeah, I think I do.”

She smirks. “Good.”

And then she kisses him again, and he's hers once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's over! I gotta say I'm really happy with how this turned out, and it's great that I finished it on the day that I did cause that's my birthday and it just has such a sense of finality to it. Thanks so much for reading my story, and to those who liked it, I'm so glad!

**Author's Note:**

> :)
> 
> Tell me your thoughts!!!


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